I have a hoarding problem and I'm afraid I always have. When I was little it was stacks of extra worksheets. I would ask all my teachers for leftover papers, and I stuff them into the many drawers full of "playing school" supplies I had. While other girls had Barbie collections, I had piles of busy work. Between that and my overly bossy personality while "playing school," it goes without saying that I was not the most popular girl on the block.

I also collected stickers as a child, and would rarely ever allow them to be used. Everytime Costco came out with those super boxes of sticker rolls (they were always ten dollars) I would BEG my dad to let me buy them. And sweet man, he would. It was usually accompained by a promise to do something, something I am quite sure I rarely followed through with. Here is the thing though, I know those stickers are somewhere in my closet at my parents house, waiting on their reusable vinyl pages that I so meticulously transferred them to, for me to find them and admire them again. Just typing that, I get butterflies in my stomach, full of concern that I might NOT actually find them. And I'm pretty sure the only person I would share those stickers with is Claire. They are still just "too special."

Then there was high school. The dreaded days of high school. Where every single dollar that made its way into my pocket was spent on compact discs. And oh how I loved them. How I pored over the liners and made sure to never bend a corner, to never break a case, to never scratch a CD. And my dad told me, Taylor, someday you will regret all the money you spend on those CD's. And I promised I would not.

He was right. He always is. They sit somewhat neglected in the garage collecting dust. I loved them, and one might even say got "my money's worth" over the years. But I have long since lost most of the liners, probably some of the CD's. When the musically inclined check out my music collection, the can't help but state that it looks like my good taste dropped off in 2005. Why yes, you are right. Because no Bright Eyes cd will surpass I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning, and I am just fine having my last memories of my very favorite band in the whole world be Futures.

So the obsessions come and go.

Currently, it's Gymboree and magazine subscriptions. In fact, I got so many magazines on Amazon for about five dollars, that they come faster than I can read them. Yet, I still get a little rush every time I open the mail box and there is a shiny new magazine just waiting for me to jump in. And Gymboree... does it ever get old getting a great deal on beautiful baby clothes?

There has been one item I can remember hoarding forever, and that is candy. I have one memory that came to me out of no where this evening. I was thinking of my fast approaching birthday, and how it is the little indulgences that are so exciting to get, the things you would never dream of getting yourself, the impractical, ever so exciting, over the top gifts that just MAKE your day, and I remembered one gift in particular. I don't know how old I was, only that I was in the "old house" as we still call it, the one just down the street from "home," where I grew up. And I can actually recall standing by the coffee table, anxiously opening my Christmas gift from my dad (he has always given us the greatest Christmas gifts) and in this giftbag (which was odd because we usually box-wrap) was a huge bag of candy from Sweet F Factory. And by huge it was probably two pounds. But in that moment, the crazy little 4 or 5 or 6 year old hoarder in me thought I had the greatest dad in the whole world, because in my hands I held more candy than any other kid in the whole world, and it would probably take my whole life to eat all that candy, but even so I would savor every bite and ration every piece.

You were starting to think I was actually going to go a whole post without talking about Claire? Of course not!! But I'll keep it short-- I hope that just once or twice, she will feel the way I felt when my dad bought me those stickers or gave me the biggest bag of candy in the world. Yeah, I'll try not to spoil her, but every once in a while I hope she thinks I'm just about the greatest person in the world.


Note to Dad, this does not mean you can pick me up a bag of candy at Costco and call it a birthday. But if its a pack of stickers AND a bag of candy... that might work.